


A Place for an Angel in Camelot

by thewightknight



Series: Ridiculous Crossovers Nobody Asked For [19]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, filling in a scene, how aziraphale became a knight of the round table, miracles and magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/pseuds/thewightknight
Summary: How did Aziraphale became a knight of the Round Table? Well, let me tell you how it started.
Series: Ridiculous Crossovers Nobody Asked For [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1214289
Comments: 8
Kudos: 117





	A Place for an Angel in Camelot

**Author's Note:**

> I'd start to write this as a part of one of the chapters for [my fic for the Good Omens bang ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295098/chapters/53248339)but it didn't really fit so I ended up setting it aside. I'd considered turning it into a longer fic, but most of the time those plans don't come to fruition, so I decided I'd share this as a standalone.

Merlin should have been dead. Arthur too, for that matter. But out of nowhere a man clad in blindingly bright armor had stepped between them and the manticore and brandished his sword and shield (rather clumsily, in Merlin’s opinion, but as Arthur was always quicek to remind him, he was not an expert in such matters), and the manticore had made a strange, choked sound, turned tail, and run away.

“I say, are you chaps all right?” he had asked, pushing back the visor of his helmet to reveal a face that wouldn’t have looked out of place if it had been painted on the walls of Camelot’s chapel.

“Um…” Merlin said.

“Eloquent as usual, Merlin.” The stranger reached out a hand and Arthur took it, then grunted as he was hoisted to his feet with no apparent effort on the stranger’s part. “You have our gratitude, sir knight.”

“Oh, it wasn’t any bother, really.” Their rescuer looked abashed, and his cheeks became even pinker.

Merlin finally found his voice. “How did you….?” He waved his arm in the general direction the manticore had gone as words deserted him again. He had a sneaking suspicion how the stranger had saved them, but didn’t want to voice it in front of Arthur.

“Oh, well, you know, a manticore’s eyes are sensitive to light and my shield is, well, rather bright.” He brandished his shield at them in demonstration. It was painted the purest, snowiest white, with a silver cross in the center. It matched its bearer’s tabard, which was suspiciously unmarred for a man who had presumably been tramping about in the wilderness.

_ Right, _ Merlin thought. He was pretty sure a little brightness hadn’t scared the manticore off, but he wasn’t going to press.

“I am Arthur Pendragon,” Arthur said with his usual pompousness.

“Oh, my goodness! Your highness! I had no idea!”

Even though he seemed surprised by this news, somehow Merlin got the impression that the knight had known exactly who they were.

“And you are?” Arthur prompted, as the knight continued to stammer.

“Oh, I’m Aziraphale.”

“Aza….” Arthur stumbled over the name.

“Aziraphale,” Merlin prompted.

“Yes, I’ve got it. Again, you have our thanks for your timely rescue. If you accompany us back to Camelot, we can thank you properly,” Arthur said, with one of those smiles of his, that never failed to charm the person on the receiving end.

“That’s unnecessary,” Aziraphale protested. The pink of his cheeks had begun to fade but when Arthur’s smile intensified, his protests trailed off.

“Please. We’ll be feasting tonight, in celebration of St. George,” Arthur said.

“Oh? A feast, you say?" That had piqued his interest, Merlin noted. "Well, I suppose I could.”

“Wonderful. Now we just have to find our horses.” Arthur turned in a circle, scanning the ground for hoofprints.

Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, I’m sure they haven’t gone far.”

He was right. With Aziraphale leading the way, they found both their horses in a nearby clearing, keeping company with a white horse with barding that matched Aziraphale’s tabard and a mule, laden with bulky bundles but seemingly unaffected by his burden. All four of their beasts munched away at the grass as if they were in their home paddock.

Merlin had thought their pace would be slow on the return trip, to accommodate Aziraphale’s donkey, but it seemed to keep up with the horses with no difficulty. It trotted along at a good clip with its ears up, steps light and ears pointed forward.

“You travel well-burdened, sir,” Merlin ventured at last, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Well, yes, I suppose I do. But I can never resist a good book.”

“Those are all books?” Merlin blurted out. How was that donkey moving at all, let alone keeping up its brisk trot?

“I’m afraid so.” Aziraphale laughed, and his cheeks grew rosy again.

“Well then, I have someone you need to meet.” Gaius would appreciate a kindred soul, and also the mystery this strange knight presented. Merlin found he was anticipating Aziraphale’s reaction when he got his first look at Camelot’s library. And maybe Gaius could confirm his suspicions about their savior.

As if he could read Merlin’s thoughts, Aziraphale winked at him when he caught Merlin’s eye.

“Now, young man. Tell me, if you would be so kind—what kinds of food do you serve at feasts in Camelot?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you want to say hi, [check out my profile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewightknight/profile) for where I’m currently hanging out on this here internet thing. If you liked this, please share! Kudos are love and comments are always appreciated.


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